


forgive me father, for i have sinned

by theGirlNightwing



Series: iterations [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, BASICALLY theres a bunch of gods - say about 10 or so - and they rotate pantheons, Blasphemy, Dark, Gags, Hair-pulling, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic, Objectification, Porn With Plot, Possessive Sex, Riding, Rough Sex, Spitroasting, Violence, excessive metaphors, i forget who else gets mentioned, i have used that tag twice (2 times) now fml, lots of talk about "breaking" him, next thing you know theyre shinto, objectification of humans, one day they're greek, or culture, pls yell at me if i butchered your religion, praying during sex, technically age difference because two of them are a million+ years old and ben is like. twenty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theGirlNightwing/pseuds/theGirlNightwing
Summary: worship/ˈwərSHəp/verbshow reverence and adoration for (a deity); honor with religious rites.synonyms:venerate, honor, adore, praise;“The concept of a single god is somewhat baffling to us - as is the lack of human sacrifice,” Alex says. “To a god, sacrifice is what we live for. A pliant body underneath you, giving itself over completely to your control, yielding to all your desires… ready to do whatever it takes to please you. Mm.”





	forgive me father, for i have sinned

**Author's Note:**

> the god au you didn't know you wanted. kind of. with sacrifice!ben. kind of.  
> (mind the tags. dark. very noncon. back away if you know you get squeamish.)
> 
> yell at me if i butchered your culture (besides chinese bc i am chinese *fingerguns*)
> 
> also im sorry @anyone who believes in One God bc theres a lot of Hating on that
> 
> and again, LARGE WARNING FOR NONCON/GRAPHIC RAPE bc that is Literally All This Is  
> im a bad person guys i already know that 
> 
> (this started out Entirely Consensual Whamilton i Swear To God Ben stop worming your way into my porn)
> 
> **
> 
> i DO NOT endorse actual rapists and if this series is continued it will go on to explore how Terrible alex and washington are in this.

Alex closes the door. “Your Excellency.”

Washington is pacing in front of his desk, Tallmadge sitting in the corner looking especially spooked. Lafayette hadn’t told him what this was about, but whenever the General calls for Alex, it… well. Devolves. 

Alex and the General have something of a special bond. Neither of them really care to define it, and neither of them really care to mention how this bond came to be - outside occasional sideways glances or fingers twitching to weave a little trouble magic.  _ Pay attention, Hamilton _ , the General might bark, and tap out a quick rhythm disguised as impatience as he fixes the web of incantations Alex had created.  _ Of course, sir,  _ Alex would say, narrowed eyes as he takes in the adjustments before deeming them adequate and ficking the little spell down at Lee, where his cup of wine spontaneously dumps itself over his head. The General’s lips would quirk, and Alex might cast his eyes over once to see the smile before returning his gaze to his hands to fiddle with something else.

As much as they enjoy toying with the humans around them, the General gets irked easily, frustrated when his battles turn in the opposition’s favor. He was blessed with a third eye in one of his past iterations (1644. Ming Dynasty. Alex isn’t sure where he was, but he thinks he was Norse at the time), an eye to see the future and predict his opponents’ moves. As a result he has become frustrated by his blindness and inability to see Britain’s future plans.

Alex on the other hand…

“Hamilton,” the General says his borrowed name, though Alex will rarely use the General’s. It’s muffled like he’s not moving his jaw to speak. He doesn’t say any more. 

“Colonel,” Tallmadge says. He’s still staring at the General like he might get his head bitten off if he shifts a millimeter, which, knowing George, might actually be pretty accurate. He probably had an iteration that liked eating heads. Or something. 

“Major. Has he been like this for a while?” Alex asks. Might be important to know. Alex isn’t sure. 

“I am not ‘like’ anything,” the General growls. “I called you to, how might you say it - sratch?”

“Forgetting English, too. Must be bad.”

“Young language,” the General defends, expression growing darker by the minute.

“Modern English is seven hundred years old,” Tallmadge says, incredulous. “It’s not a young - what is your definition of young, General Washington?”

The General grunts in lieu of answering. “Seven hundred years,” he repeats. 

“Pretty young,” Alex says with mirth. _“_ _ We’re a lot older _ _,”_ he adds in Mandarin.

The General flashes him a sharp smile, teeth and teeth and lips pulled tight against them, but Tallmadge just looks more and more concerned. Yale boy, probably learned every language he could get his hands on, but no one in the Colonies speaks Chinese yet. Sometimes Alex wonders about that. Most of the time he’s just grateful he and the General can communicate privately. 

_ “ Gua yang, _ _”_ the General says. 

Alex raises an eyebrow. “Scratch an itch.”

_ “ Yes, _ _”_ Washington hisses, and Tallmadge is starting to look like he’s considering bolting. 

“You want him here?” Alex asks, head tilted so his chin points at the corner Tallmadge’s occupying.

Washington glances over, narrows his eyes and barks, “Tallmadge!”

Tallmadge jumps, startled, hand going to his sword. He flushes when Alex gives an amused grin. “Yessir?”

“Would you like to leave?” 

It’s a trick question. In this state, he’ll want Tallmadge to answer saying  _ whatever you want me to do, sir, _ rather than whatever decision Tallmadge so desperately wants to make himself. But Tallmadge is opinionated. Very much so. Washington’s pet spymaster, Alex has seen - usually the General will let Tallmadge talk back, hidden amusement in his aura. But now - now he wants an answer like a soldier might give, and by the thrum in his magic (Alex can feel the power he’s wielding and isn’t even damn surprised because it’s the middle of a war. They’re at war, bloody and gruesome and gory and the General is a  _ god _ of war. He’s probably feeding off of the energy permeating through the camp, the bloodlust and thirst for combat in many of his own aides - Alex has to admit he’d wondered about a few of them) he doesn’t expect to receive it. 

There’s an undertone, there. Something… Alex looks closer, frowns at what he finds. Looks like he wasn’t called here for the usual reasons after all.

“If you might, uh, allow me to, sir -” Tallmadge begins slowly. 

The General hums, resumes pacing. Bitterness wafts off him like tendrils of smoke, and Alex wrinkles his nose. “Really?”

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, Hamilton,” the General says. “Major Tallmadge. On your knees.”

Tallmadge gives Alex a wary glance, hesitating before deciding the General’s wrath isn’t worth it. There’s a look in the boy’s eye as he goes. Alex near squeals in delight as he realizes what it is - recognition. They’ve done this before, oh ho! 

“Sodomy, General?” Alex says, gleeful. “Oh dearie me, you’ve offended my  _ delicate _ sensibilities! I must go report this to… uh… someone.”

Tallmadge looks genuinely terrified at the prospect, and neither of them bother telling him it’s a joke. Oops.

“You’ve committed worse,” the General says, hits him upside the head. “And be  _ quiet _ _,_ Hamilton.”

Alex wonders what his purpose is here. He supposes the General wants something, with the way he’s eying them. It doesn’t hit him until Tallmadge shifts, looking nervous. How old is he, twenty? Young. Straight out of college. Probably has no idea what he’s doing - particularly around what the General wants. Alex knows. It’s rough, since he doesn’t really make a habit of being kind, much less during sex. There are certain things - Alex thinks about what the General did to him, what Washington asked him to try. Pretty hard scenes. And that’s it - the boy is new - the General has quite a large dick and a list of kinks longer than Alex’s list of grievances. He always calls on Alex for help with this kind of thing.

“I’m never quiet,” Alex says. He winks at Tallmadge, who blushes bright red. “Remember that time, with the -”

“Lions,” Alex and the General say in unison. “And the villages nearby thought we were dying goats,” the General adds. “Yes, I remember.”

“Sir,” Tallmadge says, and Alex snorts. 

“Oh, this one calls you sir. Better than daddy, I suppose.”

“‘This one’?” Tallmadge asks, alarmed. Then, _“‘_ _ daddy’?” _

“Hamilton,” the General snaps. “Close your mouth.”

_ “ Ciertamente tienes un tipo, _ _”_ Alex says.  _ You certainly have a type. _ He walks around the General, despite his threatening stance, stops in front of Tallmadge and threads his fingers through his hair. _“_ _ Chicos bonito, cara de bebé. Inocente. _ _”_ He crouches, swipes a thumb over Tallmadge’s cheekbone. _“_ _ ¿El es bueno para chupar polla? ”  _

“No one is as good as you,” the General says. “But. Adequate.”

Alex snickers, pinches Tallmadge’s cheeks like he’s a baby. He’s got this look, like he’s analyzing them, trying to figure out what this is. “Hear that, kid?  _ Mon général  _ says you’re  _ adequate. Qu'est-ce que vous pensez être secondaire à quelqu'un d'autre,  _ darling?”

“Hamilton,” the General says again, but it’s less snappish, more low and threatening. 

Tallmadge works his jaw, and Alex stops talking to let him speak. 

“What was your last iteration?” the General asks before Tallmadge can begin. Alex startles. They don’t talk about this. He thought they’d agreed - albeit wordlessly. “Norse?”

“Caribbean,” Alex corrects. “And yours? Chinese?”

“I’ve always defaulted to Greek,” he says. “Chinese was last, chronologically. But I’ve always defaulted to Greek.”

“What are you talking about?” Tallmadge demands, and he sounds surprisingly in control for all he’s on his knees in a room with two gods. “What are you talking about, Norse, Greek, what was the other one - Chi… Chin…”

“Chinese.”

“That. Who are you?”

“Unimportant,” Alex dismisses. He taps his thigh thrice, studying Tallmadge’s face. 

Iterations. 

There’s only so much power to go around, right? The gods are a group of all-powerful beings who rotate pantheons to suit the needs of the people. There are set boundries - Washington’s always the god of war. Alex is always the trickster - silver-tongue, the Norse called him. He particularly liked them, favored them over all his other iterations, just as Washington favored the Greeks. The other gods don’t play around in the mortal world as much as the two of them do - meddling has always been a specialty of trickery and warfare. 

Their forms at any given time rely on the most dominant pantheon of the time in addition to their default. Usually they don’t tell each other who’s who, and play a guessing game. The General and Alex tend to guess each other quickest, familiar with the bodies and movements and patterns of each other more than any other two gods.

The dominant pantheon is Hinduism. Alex doesn’t spend a lot of time as his Hindu self - doesn’t really remember his own name. Washington however - war - Skanda or Kali. Alex is curious, and he won't stop until he finds out who. He thinks he’s Kali, but the blue skin and four (or ten, on occasion) arms isn’t… quite Washington’s style.

“It is  _ very  _ important,” Tallmadge insists. There’s a waver in his voice. He’s barely holding himself together. “If I am to be -  _ involved  _ \- with - I need to know.”

“Thank you, Hamilton,” the General says sarcastically. 

“You like your boys smart, sir. Not my fault. Doesn’t matter, anyway.” Alex wiggles his fingers, watches in amusement as Tallmadge goes stiff with fear - there’s a force holding him to the floor, now, and even if he tries to stand he’ll be kept down. “You like him like this? Or -” he raps his knuckles on the ground once, and Tallmadge’s torso is shoved down as he’s rearranged onto his hands and knees. “Like this?”

The General barks a laugh. _“_ _ You’re scaring him, _ _”_  he says in Mandarin. 

Alex just laughs, tilts up Tallmadge’s head. He’s not quite crying. His eyes are watering and he struggles to breathe - resigned, but jaw set in determination. Alex leans forward, chases a stray tear with his tongue, lapping at it and savoring the salty taste. “Fear always tastes so goddamn good,” he murmurs. “May I?” He doesn’t turn as he asks, but it’s clear who the question is for. 

“Go on,” the General says. Alex doesn’t need to look to know he’s settled onto his chair, watching them with that look on his face - the one he gets when he’s found an opening in the enemy’s strategy, the one he gets when he knows he’ll win. It’s familiar in more way than one, and Alex grins when he remembers -  _ Kali.  _ He’d seen that expression on Kali.

“Blue?” Alex asks absentmindedly, before leaning forward, biting at Tallmadge’s mouth, running his tongue between his lips, forcing them to part. He scrapes his teeth across Tallmadge’s own tongue, but he closes his mouth quickly, pushes him out. Alex acquiesces, leans back and repeats “blue. Really?” all breathless. “That’s what got me stuck. Blue skin. Not your style, sir.”

“Thought about a change. Didn’t want you to guess too quickly.”

“And yet,” Alex says. He stands, walks his fingers over the waistband of his pants like he’s considering something. Lingers his gaze on Tallmadge’s mouth. Lips swollen, red and wet, mouth probably warmer and softer than anything Alex’s felt before. He’s drawn to the kid’s eyes, then, watches Tallmadge’s eyelids flutter as he sucks in his bottom lip, teeth scraping off the wetness when it pops back out, even redder than before. A whimper, and Alex resists the twitch that wants to turn into a smile.  _ Hot. _

“You’re thinking about fucking his mouth,” the General observes.

“Mm. It’s pretty, and he has pretty eyes. Like I said, sir. You have a type.”

“You calling your eyes pretty, Hamilton?”

“Well they aren’t ugly, with how often you yell at me to look you in the eye.”

“Please sir, not him,” Tallmadge says, and flinches back when Alex turns. “I’ll - you can do whatever you want with me, but only you  _ please .” _

“Don’t quite have a choice, at this point,” Alex says. “No leverage, with you tied down like this.”

“Tied -?” Tallmadge glances down, surprised to see ropes.

“Yeah, tied. What, you think I have magic powers that can hold you down?”

“I -”

Alex smirks, reading the confusion and smelling helplessness. He’d weaved the rope spell moments before, a bid to get Tallmadge not to trust his mind. “Besides, if I’m reading this right - he summoned me expressly  _ to  _ stick my dick in one of your holes.”

“Sir?” Tallmadge asks, disbelieving.

“Hamilton and I have been acquainted for as long as we’ve been alive,” the General says.

“That’s a very long time,” Alex adds.

The General glares at him. “You are quite young, Major Tallmadge. Hamilton has the mind of a younger man, despite his intelligence and actual age - he would help you explore this better.”

“He wants me to break you,” Alex says, vicious. “Ignore the bullshit he just spouted. And baby, I’m gonna take my sweet, sweet time.”

“Sir, I -”

“We’re being moral, Benny-boy,” Alex says. He smiles, quick, back to neutral in a second. “Revel in it. Normally he’d have you under a spell, make it so you’re achingly addicted to his cock, use you as a sleeve and nothing else, just a toy to stick himself in when he feels like it. But for some… unfathomable reason, he seems to like you.”

“He says my eyes -”

“Yes, your eyes. Pretty pretty blue, baby.”

“He says they’re hurricane eyes,” Tallmadge says. 

Alex raises an eyebrow, snorts. “Hurricane eyes, General?”

“The Caribbean was your exception, was it not?”

Alex’s mouth twists. 

He tells people he immigrated from the Caribbean, and while it’s not quite a lie it’s not the truth. His last iteration, as he said, was Caribbean, and it was one of the few times a god didn’t stick to the pattern. He wasn’t a trickster. Wasn’t what he usually is, instead took up the role of the god - or equivalent - of death.  _ Baron Samedi.  _ He gathered many souls in the St. Croix hurricane, including those of a woman named Rachel Faucette, and a young boy named Alexander Hamilton. The boy had potential - it was a shame to see such a great mind wasted - so he took up the name, the shape of the body. He grew as the real Alexander Hamilton might have grown, tailored his looks after the boy’s parents.

He assumes the General did much the same. 

The point he’s trying to make to himself is that his eyes are hurricane eyes because Alexander had hurricane eyes. A whirlwind of words caged inside a meatsuit, cruel irony trapping the words forever as a hurricane was the one to end him. 

The General had called his eyes hurricanes ever since they’d first met in these forms. 

“You have a type,” he repeats, snaps his fingers to let Tallmadge up. The boy scrambles, stands, backs himself into a corner to keep his back to the wall. He’s still confused, about how Alex had let him go and there were ropes but there weren’t ropes before and Alex said no magic powers - but. Tears have dried down his face now, barely evident besides the slight shine, though that might just be sweat. His eyes are red and puffy, and he’s breathing hard, hair loose and strands falling into his face. 

Alex’s imagination of Alexander’s older body has a bit of a babyface. Pretty boy, babyface, innocent. Yeah. The General definitely has a type. Not quite there on that last one, but he fakes it, sometimes, pretends he’s some high-ranked big-ego officer’s first time, works his way up a chain until he’s higher than all of them, leaving them in the dust wondering how exactly he got there. 

“What are you?” Tallmadge repeats. He’s still half-crouched in his corner, alert. Tension crackling in every line of his body as his mind tells him to make a break for it - but he doesn’t, waiting for Alex to speak, to move, to give him an opening.

Alex laughs, moves closer, caging him in. “We’re  _ everything _ _,_ Benny-boy. Worship at our altars, offer your body -” Alex is in front of him, then, reaches forward and pulls him close so he can mouth at Tallmadge’s jaw. “- feed us wine and sweets until our bellies our full and bloated and we might grant you a wish, if you want it, or might merely spare your life. We hold power you can never even begin to  _ imagine,  _ doll, and we will prosper even as you and your mortal species die out. We’ve lived longer than the earth has existed, our bodies must be contained in meat suits to prevent the death of every mortal presence around us because we are  _ glorious _ _,_ we are  _ power itself _ _,_ we are -”

“We are gods,” the General interrupts, rumbles. “The gods your kind worshipped and revered for millennia before the silly notion of  _ Christianity  _ came around.” He snarls the word like a curse, spits enough venom to poison the thoughts of those standing too close. Tallmadge jerks away from Alex’s tongue at the words, breathes “heathens” before he can stop himself. Alex laughs, high-pitched and annoyed, bites down on Tallmadge’s collarbone until he’s whining, twisting to try and get away. There’s a half serious fight in him, but Alex’s hands thrum with energy as he saps the thought of rebellion from Tallmadge’s mind.

“My apologies, Major Tallmadge,” Alex says, only a lilt in his voice giving away the sarcasm, “your father is a reverend, is he not?”

“Yes,” Tallmadge says, angry and dazed and scared all at once. Alex contemplates slapping him, demanding to be treated to the same honorifics and reverence as he gives the General, before deciding against it. Oh how the General loves getting his ego stroked (and Tallmadge appears quite good at that in a number of ways), but it won’t work if someone else is held to the same standard. 

“The concept of a single god is somewhat baffling to us - as is the lack of human sacrifice,” Alex says. “To a god, sacrifice is what we live for. A pliant body underneath you, giving itself over completely to your control, yielding to all your desires… ready to do whatever it takes to please you. Mm.”

Alex can feel Tallmadge shudder. “Perhaps that is why Christianity is dominant,” he says harshly. “Because our True God, our Savior and Creator, will not lower himself to the debauchery and sin your...  _ kind _ will.”

Alex barely registers forming a fist before it buries itself in Tallmadge’s gut. Tallmadge wheezes, a little spit flying into Alex’s face. “You want debauchery, boy?” Alex yanks his hair, forcing his face up. Tallmadge’s mouth opens from shock, and Alex takes the opportunity to press their lips together, shove his tongue into Tallmadge’s mouth roughly. Tallmadge forces it out with his own tongue, closes his teeth stubbornly, and Alex, annoyed again, bites down into Tallmadge’s lip. Tallmadge yelps, tries to yank back and in the process hurts himself more. Alex pulls back. There’s blood in his mouth, metallic, and he licks his teeth, grins big and bloody. “I’ll show you debauchery.”

It’s not quite the same as an offering. 

Their sacrifices are always soft and willing, ready to bare themselves. Saccharine. Their taste, their skin - sweet as any kind of candy. Tallmadge… Tallmadge is not. He fights and protests as Alex strips down his clothes, licking and sucking and leaving little bruises in the shape of his mouth and his fingers. Tallmadge even makes a break for it at one point, wearing just his breeches and tights, only getting so far before the General’s out of his seat and knocking him down and tossing him back to Alex. 

“You praise his mouth to high heaven,” Alex says, slips a finger inside it. “But if I do this -” as expected, teeth sink into his flesh. He laughs, pries open Tallmadge’s jaw to release his hand. “He’s a toothy bastard, isn’t he.”

“Fuck you,” Tallmadge growls, spits a blood-filled glob of saliva onto Alex’s face. 

There’s silence as it drips, slides onto his otherwise-pristine uniform. Alex quietly contemplates pulling the boy’s teeth out, snapping every finger, maybe even going for his eyes - pretty pretty pretty, would probably be even prettier in a glass jar of formaldehyde.

“Hamilton is very particular about his clothes, Major Tallmadge,” the General says from his chair, amused. “You will likely regret that action.”

Alex frowns, folds his fingers against his palm one-by-one, magic-ing the saliva off his coat. It returns to its pristine state, aside from the little oval a shade darker than the rest and the knowledge that the spit and blood had been there. 

“You have the future at your disposal,” the General reminds him. “There are ways to keep his teeth away.”

Tallmadge makes a little noise like betrayal. “Sir -”

Alex wordlessly summons a ring gag, fits it over Tallmadge’s face before he can speak. “I want your mouth, boy, without having to worry about you biting my dick off. You’re gonna get me nice and hard and wet, and then I’m gonna fuck you, harder than you’ve ever had. Better put that spit you so graciously decorated my coat with to good use, because that’s all the lubrication you’re getting.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he tries to speak, tries to say  _ no no no _ but it comes out more like a moan -  _ oh uh uh. _

“Aww, baby’s a little nervous, hm? I’m smaller than Georgie is, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“a’en, ‘eash don’ -” he says, lips fluttering desperately around the gag. 

“What was that?” Alex cups a hand behind his ear, frowns dramatically. 

More gibberish. His eyes plead for Alex to understand. Alex obliges, pokes through his mind to find -

“You haven’t fucked him?” Alex asks the General in surprise. 

“I would break him,” the General responds. Alex grins, snatches Tallmadge’s wrist and pulls him flush against his body as the General continues, “I fingered him open for nearly an hour, and I could barely get the head inside him. You’ll be easier for him to take.”

“No,” Tallmadge tries to say. He attempts to push away but Alex winds an arm around his waist, keeps him there. “Please no please sir I have done everything to please you -”

“So you’ll be tight,” Alex murmurs, ignoring him. He brings up a hand, strokes his cheek. “What did I do to deserve this heaven?”

Tallmadge tries to speak again, and again comes off as unintelligible blubbering. Alex pokes around his mind.  _...don’t deserve the worst heaven could do don’t deserve to speak the name of the Lord God’s home -  _ words run through with a prayer as his thoughts flip back and forth constantly -  _ deliver us from evil - may God (Lord please I have never asked anything more urgent any more urgent than now I do not wish to sin) guide me through the night - our father who art in heaven - _

“Naughty boy,” Alex says, dives his hand down Tallmadge’s breeches. “Praying to one god while in the presence of another. A major offense, Major. Back in the old days, it’d be accepted for me to claim you as mine for that, use you as I see fit until I lose interest and discard you, trade you for a newer model.” Alex grins wickedly as his hand wraps around Tallmadge’s cock. “But our dearest General already has a claim. And as much as I detest the reminder, there’s a system to follow, nowadays.” Tallmadge lets out a half-whine half-moan sound, bucks his hips into Alex’s hand. “Oh, you hard just from this, little whore? Come on, Benny-boy, fuck my hand - that’s it, thrust your hips.”

“You talk too much,” the General says.

“Oh, stuff it, old man.” Alex places a hand on Tallmadge’s shoulder, squeezes it, pushes into muscle with his thumb. He finds the spot he’s looking for and Tallmadge drops to a kneel, noises of distress emerging. “Pressure points are a lovely thing,” Alex says, grabbing a fistfull of Tallmadge’s hair. He pulls out his dick with his free hand, hand drifting over the head as it fills out a little more. “Like what you see?” He snaps his fingers, and ropes wind around Tallmadge’s wrists, binding them behind his back.

Ben does, in fact, like what he sees, but he desperately denies it, wills his own erection to go away, sends up more prayers with eyes shut tight so as not to see what Alex is doing.

“I’d say open up wide, but you already are,” Alex teases, and pushes his cock inside Ben’s mouth. 

Ben chokes when it hits the back of his throat, gags and splutters, drool dripping down his chin. It’s undignified. Alex just laughs, grabs Ben’s coat and wipes the drool off with it. “Decorate your own coat, Major.  _ Jolie petite salope. ”  _

Ben makes a feeble attempt to use his tongue, to actually suck on it, to gain back any semblance of control, but Alex doesn’t let him. He sets a brutal pace, fucking in and out and uncaring if Ben tries or not. Alex said something earlier about the General using most of “his boys” as a cocksleeve, just a hole to fill. That’s what this feels like, and damn if there isn’t a feeling like a knife twisting his gut at the thought of the General with others - even Alex, if the subtext in their dialogue is to be believed. 

Alex said Ben’s special. The knife twists further as Alex hits particularly deep in a thrust, moans as Ben’s throat constricts. He tries not to drool, not to cry. He doesn’t  _ feel  _ special. 

Alex pulls out, yanks him up. “You want his mouth?” He asks. 

“Yes,” the General hisses. Ben whimpers, stumbles when Alex pushes him forward and bends him over the desk. His breeches are yanked off, as well as everything else covering his bits. “Be a good boy, Ben,” the General says, running his fingers through Ben’s hair.

Ben closes his eyes as the first finger pushes in - nearly dry. Spit only, like what Alex promised. He bites back a groan.

“I’d advise you to use oil,” the General says. “Spit will not be enough to get yourself fully seated.”

Alex gives a disappointed sigh in acknowledgement, and the General nudges over the little pot. He lathers his fingers in it, being generous for once in his life. Of course, this means Alex shoves two in at once, thrusting them in and out, pressing them against his walls. “So tight around just two of my fingers - can’t wait to feel you around my cock… virgins are always the best to ruin. Screaming, pushing against the intrusion -” he adds another finger and Ben muffles a scream into the desk. “Don’t do that, baby,” Alex says, and the General yanks his head up by his hair, “I fucking  _ love  _ it when little whores scream.”

“There’s a spell around the room,” the General says. “No one can hear what is happening.”

There go Ben’s hopes for a rescue.

When Alex thrusts in it’s without warning. Just a stillness at Ben’s posterior and he tenses because Alex being still and silent is never good but then his cock is inside him, burning, a stretch he’s never felt before and  _ Lord in heaven please deliver me from this evil I never intended please  _ and Alex moans, stills, whispers a litany of filthy words into Ben’s ear. Praises, demeaning labels,  _ whore our little whore you can come just from this can’t you oh fuck virgin ass so tight - _

It’s distraction enough Ben doesn’t notice the General take out his own cock, not until it’s resting on his lip. And then he’s being filled from both sides, one fire and the other ice as Alex burns red hot and continues his hard rough fast fucking and the General remains cold calm collected, fingers running through Ben’s hair as he thrusts, thrusts, shallow and unfeeling. But the weight and shape is familiar. The hours Ben had spent on his knees for him have made him familiar with the General’s cock, the way it feels in his mouth and the taste of it. So it’s a bit of a comfort. 

Well. 

As close to a comfort as a dick can be.

It’s almost painful, for Alex, which is rare - rare to find a boy with an ass so tight it hurts to fuck him. But it’s not enough to discourage him, so he keeps at it, fucking deep and weaving spells into his skin - whisper of doubt, poisoned mind, a desire - a  _ need _ \- for the General, loss of faith.  _ Break, _ Alex says through the energy of the spells.  _ Break. _ This is what he was summoned here to do, after all.

Alex reaches around and jerks Ben’s cock, hand still slick from oil. “Come for me,” he whispers, thrusts particularly deep and releases his load deep inside Ben’s ass, where Ben can feel it as he shifts, but then it doesn’t matter because Ben’s seeing stars and feels red hot pleasure burst through his veins mixing with pain as Alex withdraws and he moans, paints the desk white with his come, collapses limp when Alex lets go of his hips.  _ Break. _

The General withdraws from his mouth, takes off the gag. Ben’s mouth feels sore but it’s okay because it’s over it’s over it’s over - “Hamilton, the oil.”

_ No. _

“Of course, Your Excellency,” Alex purrs, and tugs Ben to standing. “Come on, boy. Over to the General.”  _ Break. _

“I can’t - no more -” Ben can barely walk, twinge between his legs every time he tries. “No -” he’s tried to take the General’s cock before. It’s too big, he’ll never be able to.  _ Break. _

He barely feels Alex’s fingers in his ass, stretching him further, as he’s staring at the ground, fear coursing through him. God, he feels ruined.  _ Break. _

The General pulls him towards him, settles back on his chair, legs spread and cock erect, an obscene picture but with a power in his body that makes Ben think that maybe they really are who -  _ what  _ \- they say they are.  _ Break. _

The General lines up, and then Ben is pushed down to sit in his lap, taking his cock inch by inch, as slow as he can with the General’s hand on his shoulder. He really does scream, this time, chest heaving as he breathes fast, nearly hyperventilating.  _ Break. _

“ _ Fuck _ ,” the General says. “So tight, such a good boy, taking all of me. Nearly there, just a little further…”  _ Break. _

And then he  _ wants _ . Wants and desires and  _ nonono what is this  _ and fuck that feels so good his Master’s cock inside him  _ no _ the flush of shame as he goes against his religion  _ NO  _ to get what he  _ please no  _ wants - no,  _ needs _ \- 

Alex feels a little tingle as the spells take effect. “Good little whore,” Alex coos, sprawled on the desk with a cat-like smirk as he takes them in. Spirit starts to flow, ooze around Ben as it escapes his body - and Alex eats it all. Ben goes limp, like a rag doll. Perfect pretty whore. Fight has left him, the big bad god ate it all! “Handle him as hard as you like, GWash. I did what you wanted. He can’t break any further than I’ve already broken him.” 

That’s all the General needs, to grip Ben’s hips, lift him up and slam him down. Ben’s mouth opens in a silent yell, but no sound escapes. Alex’s come makes squelching noises inside him. He feels dirty. The General is fully clothed, save for his breeches being slightly pulled down, and Ben is completely naked, no control over his movements, like a toy. A whore.  _ Our Father, who art in heaven  _ \- he chokes as the General buries himself deep, bites his neck, groans as his come joins Alex’s. Rushes deep and hot and filling and dripping and -

_ I repent for my sins and beg forgiveness,  _ Ben thinks, dazed. But why is he praying? Why is he - no, he must repent -  _ I will do whatever - whatever it takes to gain forgiveness.  _

The General nips at his skin, chuckles so deep in his chest Ben can feel the vibrations. “Hamilton.”

“Ye-es, sir,” Alex says, mockingly. He pulls Ben off the General’s lap. 

The General fixes himself up quickly, dusts off his jacket. “I have somewhere to be. I trust you to impress on him the nature of this arrangement, and the secrecy involved.”

“‘Course,” Alex says. “And sir -”

“No, I will  _ not  _ give you a command. I need your words, Hamilton, not your claws.”

Alex huffs, glares, and watches as he leaves.

_ Whatever it takes to gain c - no. Forgiveness.  _

“But we forgive you,” Alex says, innocently. “Quid pro quo, baby.”

_ Lord in heaven, hallowed be thy name.  _

“Worship us,” Alex says, pinches his cheek. “Love us, baby. We’ll shower you with gifts.”

_ Kingdom come, thy want - no, will - be done on earth as it is in heaven. _

“Look at me, baby.” 

_ Give us this day our daily - daily - bonds? That’s not right. Bread. Encourage our sins - that’s not - what are the words? What are the words? What are the WORDS? _

“Look at me, Ben.”

Alex’s eyes are swirling. Hurricane. Hurricane eyes.

“I’ll tell,” Ben manages. It’s the only clear thought he can manage. He wants and wants but he knows he isn’t supposed to, knows he’s supposed to trust his God but can’t find it in himself to finish the prayer. But he knows. He may be corrupted but he  _ can _ get help. He can tell someone, someone will be able to free him, cure him of this. Someone. Someone must be able to.

“What makes you think you’ll be  _ able _ to tell a soul?”

“You can’t stop me.”

“You forget, boy. We are gods. You worshipped at my altar, and his before me. You’ve given us control over your mind and body. We know more about you than you know of yourself. I can tell you now - speak a word of this, and both Washington and I are ruined. And you know the patriots can’t win the war without us. France would withdraw their support, scandalized by the conduct performed here, Congress would lose trust in their most trusted. And if we were dismissed or tried to be executed - which you know won’t work - we might switch to the other side. The redcoats have warm beds in Philadelphia, Major. They look mighty appealing. So you won’t say a word, will you? You’ll give your body to us time and time again and keep your pretty mouth shut of your own volition - no spell, no curse - because you know the truth will lose us the war.”

Alex leans forward, and Ben more reads his lips than hears him speak the words, blood rushing in his ears as he starts to shake. There’s come dripping down his leg and he feels ripped open, split in half, broken. He’d thought about telling Caleb, pleading him to help. Caleb would understand. But Caleb would talk, demand he bring this to Congress. Maybe Ben could tell the Marquis - trusted by the two of them, though closer to Hamilton. But the Marquis would tell Versailles, and the French would withdraw. Alex is right. If he so much as breathes a word, they lose the war. And then everything they’ve worked for - Culper, the ring, the land they roam now - and everyone they've lost - Sackett, Nathan Hale, hundreds of soldiers on the field - it all would mean nothing. So he nods, stiff. Closes his eyes as Alex uses a finger to tilt his head and kiss him. Alex says the words again, smug against Ben’s lips, even as a tear drips down Ben’s cheek. Saccharine, Alex had said. Sweet supple sinful slut and - and.

Sure. He can do that. 

He drops to his knees when Alex stops kissing him, looks up at him through his lashes, mouths at Alex’s bulge like the hungry whore they pretend he is, winces imperceptibly as he feels it start to harden. The words echo through Ben’s mind through this, through the cock when it breaches his mouth, through the way his body yields to the man - no,  _ god -  _ above him. 

_ You belong to us. _

_ You belong to us. _

_ You belong to us. _

He smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> might make this a series! probs wont be all like this, stuff like caleb/laf seeing their interactions post this fic and worrying  
> lmk if i should
> 
> (lmao the title is me after writing this)


End file.
